Dante's Unexpected Legacy(85)

                Rose melted against him, luxuriating in contact with the lean, muscular body that to her eyes could have been a model for one of the sculptures she’d seen in Florence. When she told him this between kisses Dante stared at her in astonishment for a moment, then saw by the look in her eyes that she meant every word and kissed her hard on her parted, eager mouth before his lips joined with his seeking hands in a glissando of caresses that transformed her entire body into a trembling erogenous zone.

                ‘I know it sounds silly,’ she gasped, ‘but this feels new, as though we’d never made love before.’

                ‘We have not done so for an entire endless month, and never as man and wife,’ he whispered, and positioned his taut, aroused body between her thighs. ‘Now, tesoro!’

                Rose clasped Dante close, her inner muscles caressing the hard length of him as he thrust home into her welcoming heat. He kissed her endlessly, murmuring passionate loving words into her ear as his caressing hands and demanding body drew such a wild response. As he possessed her she stifled a scream when the almost unbearable rapture of her orgasm overwhelmed her a second or two before Dante gave a triumphant groan and surrendered to his own.

                They lay together afterwards in a boneless tangle of arms and legs, Dante’s face buried in her hair.

                ‘A good thing the other guests are all staying at the Hermitage,’ said Rose at last. ‘Sorry I was so noisy, Dante.’

                He raised his head, his eyes blazing down into hers with pride. ‘It is the greatest compliment you could pay me, tesoro. I feel like a king to know I gave you pleasure!’

                ‘Did I give you pleasure?’

                ‘Pleasure,’ he said with feeling, ‘is not a big enough word. I have made love to other women in my life. You know that. But with you there is rapture I have never experienced before.’ He frowned. ‘You are crying, tesoro?’

                She sniffed hard. ‘That was such a beautiful thing to say, Dante.’ But still not quite the words she longed to hear.

                ‘It is the truth,’ he assured her and with a sigh of contentment turned on his back to pull her close. ‘I hope our little angel sleeps well tonight.’

                To her shame, Rose’s pleasure dimmed a little after Dante’s attention reverted so swiftly to his daughter. ‘Since she’s safe in Tom’s house with my mother, and Charlotte and Fabio are there, too, Bea will be fine.’ She smiled up into his relaxed, handsome face as she stroked the slim, strong hand now adorned with a wedding ring, something, he’d informed her, he’d refused to wear during his former marriage. ‘It’s time I let you into a little secret. Everyone thinks I named her Beatrice for my grandmother, and in one way this is true, but it was also my own private little joke.’

                ‘Joke?’ Dante looked down at her in question.

                ‘Beatrice was the love of your poet, Dante Alighieri, so I named my baby for her as my secret connection to you.’

                A look of pain swept over his face. ‘Ah, Rose, if I had known!’

                ‘If you had you couldn’t have done anything about it at the time, but I thought you’d like to know now we’re married.’

                ‘I do like it very much.’ He raised her hand to his lips. ‘It is much happier than the revelation given to me on my first wedding night.’

                Rose took in a deep breath. ‘Talking of revelations, I’ve been waiting for the right moment to give you another one.’